


Ultimate Fantasy

by butterflyslinky



Category: That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are the ultimate fantasy for many people. And one of those people can turn a fantasy into a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The music was too loud. Then again, the music was always too loud. But tonight, it was even louder and Spoony wasn’t sure that he could take it.

He had been sitting in the dressing room for the last half-hour, not moving, just staring at himself in the mirror. He was supposed to be getting ready, putting on his stage make-up and getting into his trade-mark clothes, but he couldn’t. Not tonight. Not after what had happened…

“Spoony!” The harsh voice of the stage manager cut through his thoughts. “You’re on in five! Get your ass in gear!”

“Sorry,” Spoony muttered, reaching for his clothes and starting to change.

His co-star looked over at him. “You okay, dude?” Linkara asked as he checked his face in the mirror for the tenth time.

“Yeah,” Spoony said shortly. “I’m fine.”

Linkara studied him for a moment as he grabbed his shirt. “You sure? You look kind of tired…”

“I’m fine,” Spoony repeated. “Just had a late night… private performance, you know.”

Linkara stared for a moment. “Did they…? I mean, they followed the rules…?”

“Yeah,” Spoony said immediately. “They did. I’m just tired out, you know.”

Linkara looked worried. “If you want to take the night off…”

“No,” Spoony interrupted. “I need to do this tonight.” He pulled on the fantasy-type thong that he had gotten when they had come up with the act. “Need the money.”

“You just did a private performance!”

“Rent’s due soon,” Spoony muttered. “And I have to eat. And my nephew’s birthday’s coming up and…”

“Okay,” Linkara sighed. “Just… if you’re not up to it, it’s okay. I can solo.”

Spoony shook his head. “I’m up to it,” he assured his costar.

“Two minutes, you two! Get your sorry asses backstage!”

“I’ve never heard anyone refer to our asses as ‘sorry,’” Linkara snarked back at the stage manager, but he grabbed his coat and headed on back, Spoony following close behind.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the MC was calling as Linkara and Spoony took their places. “Please welcome the masters of swords and sorcery, the duo of epic proportions, Magic Gun and Mystic Blade in the Ultimate Fantasy!”

The music started, loud and obnoxious and with the same damn beat as every other song in the show. Spoony glanced at Linkara before forcing a smile on his face and beginning to dance.

_You can roll me,_

_You can stat me,_

_You can play me_

_All night long._

The first rule of this job was to never complain. Headliner or not, everyone did pretty much the same thing. They went on stage, they did some dances that were supposed to be erotic where they thrusted and writhed on each other, they took off their clothes and smiled as the audience threw money at them. And they always smiled.

_Please attack me,_

_And please hurt me,_

_Take my hit points_

_All night long._

God, Spoony hated smiling, especially when dancing to the song he and Linkara had been given for their act. It was one of the worst rock songs ever written, with a beat that pounded into your head and notes that didn’t match at all and lyrics that were asinine at best, but the director, Chick—at least, she called herself a director, though God knew she didn’t do much other than yell—had said that it fit their gimmick perfectly. “After all,” she said when Spoony and Linkara had exchanged a look and started protesting. “It is about D&D and sex and fantasies and all that shit. And you two are the most popular dancers we’ve ever had, so you count as an ultimate fantasy.”

_Cause I’m gonna be_

_What you want to see_

_Whatever you want from me._

It didn’t matter, really. As long as they were pulling off clothes and shaking their asses and touching each other in very inappropriate places, the audience didn’t care what was playing.

_Come on, baby,_

_I’m here to please._

_I’m nothing less than your_

_Ultimate Fantasy._

He was just going through the motions, he knew, but Spoony had garnered enough of a reputation by now that no one cared. And it wasn’t like they didn’t have anything to look at—Linkara was giving a wonderfully intense performance as usual, though the few times they made eye contact, Spoony could tell he was worried, and whenever they touched, Spoony knew Linkara was being gentler than usual on purpose. Spoony responded by giving him his most lecherous smile and squeezing harder whenever he could.

_Just a costume,_

_Just a stage name,_

_Just a character_

_To you._

Why they had decided to go with the RPG fantasy gimmick, Spoony would never understand, but that was only to be expected in what was described as a “nerdy, bisexual venue” like the Many Pleasures Lounge. It made some sense, he supposed, since both he and Linkara went with fantasy-type weapons for their stage names, though that didn’t excuse the lameness of their routine. Nor did it explain why two people who wore completely different costumes and had completely different body types were put in a duo, other than collective popularity. Then again, they did move together well, due to being such good friends.

_Please don’t bore me_

_With your story,_

_Just let me be_

_Good to you._

Everyone—men, women, whatever—was throwing money at them, screaming and cheering. Even if it sucked, the gimmick was successful. Spoony did his best to do what he had to, pressed himself to Linkara when they moved together, thrusted forward as much as possible when they separated. Most of their clothes had been shed by now and Spoony was showing everything he had, smiling at the audience like he would like nothing better than to go home with them, even though there was nothing he wanted less.

_Cause I’m gonna be_

_What you want to see,_

_Whatever you want from me._

_Come on, baby,_

_I’m here to please,_

_I’m nothing less than your_

_Ultimate Fantasy._

As the song launched into one of the worst instrumental breaks Spoony had ever had the misfortune of hearing, his mind began to wander, even though he kept dancing, even though he kept smiling. He was remembering the previous night, when a wealthy client had come to him after the show and asked for a “private performance” at his home, offering a large sum of money for it. Spoony, desperately needing enough money to pay for rent and other incidental expenses after several nights of drinking with his coworkers, had said yes, but making it abundantly clear that the same rules had to be followed. Touching only if Spoony was in control. No one but the man paying him. And absolutely no sex.

He thought that it had been clear.

_Cause I’m gonna be_

_What you want to see,_

_Whatever you want from me._

_Come on, baby,_

_I’m here to please,_

_I’m nothing less than your_

_Ultimate Fantasy._

Finally, the song came to an end and Spoony was standing center stage, completely naked, Linkara standing beside him, pressed back to back up against each other. The audience was screaming, throwing money from all sides. Spoony and Linkara broke apart, took their bows, and started collecting what was thrown. Some of it would go to the owner, of course, but a healthy percentage was theirs. As soon as they had gotten all of the money off the stage, they grabbed the clothes scattered everywhere and started to retreat back to their dressing room.

The stage manager stopped them. “They sound like they want an encore,” he commented.

“They always do,” Linkara muttered back. “But we don’t do encores. We only know the one routine.”

“You two should work on that.”

“If we did, we’d never get off the stage,” Linkara snapped. “And Spoony already looks like he’s going to fall over. We’re done for tonight. Besides, the club will close in half-an-hour.”

With that, Linkara grabbed Spoony by the arm and dragged him back into the dressing room, where Spoony immediately dropped his stripper clothes and started getting dressed. He didn’t want to wear them more than necessary. Didn’t want to feel them on his body. Didn’t want to be reminded…

“Seriously, dude, what’s up with you tonight?” Linkara asked.

“Nothing,” Spoony said, pulling on his jeans. God, they were so comfortable right now.

“It’s not nothing. You were zoning out through the whole performance.” Linkara looked more worried than ever. “If something happened…”

“Nothing happened,” Spoony snapped. “We got through it. We’re done here.” He moved to leave, but Linkara caught his hand.

“We’re not done, we have to divide the earnings with Critic. And you’re clearly not well.”

“Leave me alone,” Spoony said. “I did what I was supposed to. I don’t have to do anything else tonight. Just save me my cut, would you?”

“Critic will take it if you’re not there.”

Spoony knew it was true so he simply sat back down and waited until Linkara had finished getting all the stage make-up off and putting his clothes back on. Linkara kept glancing at him, worried, but Spoony wasn’t saying anything. He didn’t need to.

“Okay,” Linkara said. “Let’s go.”

They gathered up all the money they had earned and headed into Critic’s office. The act from before them was just finishing up, and they left almost immediately upon seeing the duo. Critic gave them his usual smile.

“Well, boys, what do we have today?” he asked as Spoony and Linkara put the money on his desk.

“We’ll let you count it,” Linkara said. Critic kept smiling as he did so, but his smile disappeared as he finished.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Sir?” Linkara said in confusion as Spoony put on his best puppy-dog face. They had been through this several times and both could play their parts to a tee.

“The fuck kind of earnings is this?” Critic snapped. “Barely half of your usual average!”

“Well, sir, it’s a Sunday night. People have work in the morning and…”

“No excuses,” Critic snarled. “You two are our headliners. If you can’t earn a good salary on a slow night, what’s the point of you?”

Normally, Spoony would tune out this conversation, sit back and wait until Critic was done shrieking at them before taking his cut (always reduced when the earnings were low) and going out to get smashed. But tonight, it was the last thing he needed. Tonight, he knew that it was his fault, that he must not have given the right “come hither” looks to an eager audience. Tonight, he was too preoccupied to really concentrate on dancing and Critic yelling at him was just the icing on the cake.

“We did our best,” Spoony interrupted, really not in the mood for this right now. “It’s not our fault if people are cheap.” He bit back the comment that the cheap ones were better. They didn’t lure you into dark houses and have you perform, didn’t offer you a drink afterward, didn’t drag you, still conscious but unable to move into black bedrooms…

Critic turned his angry eyes on Spoony. “Are you arguing with me, Spoony?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. “Because I don’t want to remind you again who’s in charge here. And I don’t want to remind you what I pay you to do.”

Spoony didn’t say anything else, but he glared at Critic, directly all his emotions at his boss rather than face them. It was enough, though, because Critic sat down and divided up the money, putting considerably less into Spoony’s stack than his own, and even Linkara’s. “There you go,” he said. “That’s what you earned, that’s what you get. And Spoony,” he said as the dancers grabbed their money and got up. Spoony turned back to him, still glaring. “Shut up and dance.”


	2. Chapter 2

Linkara at least had the decency to wait until they were out of the club and on the street to say anything. “That was dumb of you.”

“What?” Spoony asked. “Not dancing my hardest after being out all night?”

“No, talking back to Critic like that. I know you were trying tonight.” Linkara glanced around before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his night’s pay. “How much did he short you?”

“It’s okay, I probably earned it last night.”

“You danced as hard as I did. Now how much are you short?”

Spoony pulled out his own wad of bills and they stopped under a streetlight to count it out. It turned out that Critic had shorted Spoony by nearly fifty dollars—not much to a respectable person, but for someone like Spoony, a good deal. Linkara quickly divided the money correctly before looking seriously at Spoony. “Come on, you need a drink.”

“I can’t…”

“On me, okay?”

Spoony hesitated, but going out to get drunk with Linkara meant that he wouldn’t have to go home and be alone. “Okay.”

They headed to their usual spot, a large, crowded bar with cheap drinks, bad lighting, and music that was horrible but still not as bad as the stuff they danced to. Linkara went to the bar and ordered their usual drinks while Spoony found a secluded table in the very back.

“Okay,” Linkara said as he sat down and slid a glass across the table. “What’s going on?”

Spoony glared. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s nothing?”

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have mouthed off to Critic. If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have danced like you were about to die. If it was nothing, we would have made enough money to avoid getting yelled at. So tell me what’s going on before I change our song to Nickleback.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Spoony glared for another minute before his face softened and he took a sip of his drink. He could never stay mad at his friend for long. “It’s really not something we need to talk about,” he mumbled.

Linkara’s face softened as well. “I will get the truth out of you, even if I have to spend all my money getting you drunk,” he said softly.

Spoony sighed. “All right,” he agreed. It would be a relief to tell someone, even though he knew what Linkara’s reaction was going to be. He took another drink before continuing. “Last night, after the set, I was heading out when one of the regulars—the one who always sits at table six, you know?”

“The one who throws hundred dollar bills at you?” Linkara asked. “The one who wears designer suits when it’s ninety degrees and who looks like a bonobo?”

“Yeah, him. Anyway, he comes up to me and says he’ll pay five hundred dollars for a private show.”

Linkara exhaled. “Five hundred? That’s…”

“I know. And I agree and go with him.” Spoony’s hands were shaking and he quickly took a drink to steady them. “So we go back to his place, big, expensive type house, and he takes me in. We go over the rules. He knows what to expect. I told him… anyway, I do my thing, maybe get a little personal, but not too far, and when I’m done, he says it was well worth it and offers me a drink.” Spoony blinked to keep the tears back. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now. Not here, with Linkara looking at him with so much sympathy that he could just melt. “I… I took it… and he must have put something in it because I kept feeling numb… and then I fell over and I couldn’t move and he… he picked me up and… and took me to the back room…” He broke off, trying to get himself together. Not crying. Not breaking down now. “And… I told him before that it wasn’t okay… I said no before it even started… but he just ignored it and…” He couldn’t go on. Couldn’t hold it in anymore, not with it playing over in his head, the helplessness, the darkness, the rough body invading him. He looked up and saw Linkara’s shocked face and that was when Spoony broke down, the tears falling down his face even as he tried to hold them in.

Almost immediately, Linkara had come around the table and sat down on the bench next to Spoony, wrapping his arms around his friend. Spoony completely lost it, burying his face in Linkara’s shoulder and sobbing for all he was worth, his hands clenching in the front of Linkara’s shirt. Linkara stroked his hair and back, murmuring soft words of comfort that Spoony couldn’t even hear. Luckily it was so dark and they were so secluded that no one seemed to notice them.

Finally, Spoony stopped crying enough to finish the story. “As soon as I could walk again, I caught a cab and went home. Luckily he paid me in advance… anyway, I got back and somehow got upstairs to shower… I know I shouldn’t have, that I should have gone to the police, but I didn’t want to… he told me while it was happening that if I ever told he’d get the club shut down… and I need this job, Linkara, I can’t fucking afford to live otherwise… and I managed to sleep a little… but I know I was really fucking bad tonight, that I wasn’t really into it…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Linkara murmured. “No one could give a good performance after that.” He pulled back and looked seriously at Spoony. “You have to tell someone.”

Spoony gave a forced little laugh. “Who? The police? There’s no evidence. I went with him willingly and any evidence of the drugs is long gone.”

“You could tell Critic...”

“What’s he gonna do? It happened off the property, it’s out of his control.”

“He could ban the guy.”

“A guy who can afford to throw hundred dollar bills at the stage?”

“A guy who makes the dancers unable to dance.”

“I can dance fine.”

“Clearly not well enough.”

“It’s like I said. He threatened to report us as a brothel and get us shut down.”

“So we’ll go somewhere else,” Linkara said. “We’ll tell Critic, Critic bans him, he starts shit, we take our act to a different club and start over.”

“He’ll find us.”

Linkara paused. “Maybe,” he admitted. “What about a different city? Just pack everything up and get out of here as soon as we tell Critic what happened. Say that if he ever comes back, we go somewhere else. We could just grab whatever we have, throw it in my car, find work wherever we can…”

Spoony shook his head. “And then what? Keep moving? Flee the city every time some creeper takes advantage of us? We’re whores, Linkara, and we’re always going to be no matter where we go.”

Linkara glared at him. “We’re not whores, Spoony. We’re strippers. People look, but they don’t touch. They’re not supposed to touch. What he did wasn’t your fault and was definitely illegal. You have to do something.”

“I don’t have to…”

“And if you don’t, I will.”

“You can’t go anything if I don’t let you.”

“Can’t I? There’s a limit to how far I let you ignore this.” Linkara stood up. “Finish up, then I’m taking you home.”

“You don’t have to…”

“And you are definitely not working tomorrow.”

“You can’t make me!”

“Watch me,” Linkara said. “I’ll take you to my place and have Harvey watch you if I have to, because you cannot work right now. I saw you tonight, and Critic won’t allow another performance like that to slide. I’ll tell him you’re sick and I’m going solo, I’ve still got a routine.”

Spoony sighed. “You really like this stripper with a heart of gold thing, don’t you?” he said, finishing his drink. “But all right. Just… don’t tell him, all right?”

“Someone has to.”

“I know. I will, I just need to think about it a little. Figure out how to approach him and all.”

Linkara nodded. “Fair enough. See how you feel after tomorrow. But if you don’t tell him before next weekend, I will.”

Spoony nodded back. It was the best he could hope for. “Okay.” He rubbed his eyes. “Do I have mascara all over?”

“No, you’re fine,” Linkara assured him.

“Take me home?”

“Back to yours? Or do you want company?”

“I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay.” Linkara gently took his hand and pulled him up. They left the club and Linkara hailed a cab outside. As they rode back to Linkara’s apartment—slightly nicer than Spoony’s since he had found an roommate with a classier job than dancing naked—Spoony leaned his head on Linkara’s shoulder and tried to relax. Linkara put his arm around his shoulders and it almost, just almost, felt like it would be okay again.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking in the backdoor of the club the next night alone was kind of weird. Usually, Linkara and Spoony would show up around the same time and go in together, talking about their days (on the rare occasion that something actually happened), comparing notes on clients, bitching about the god-awful song they had to dance to. But last night, Spoony had been silent, and tonight, he wasn’t there at all.

Linkara quickly ran through his solo routine in his head, trying to remember all the steps as though it actually mattered. As long as he wound up completely naked and smiling his most wicked little smile, the audience didn’t care about his actual movement.

He stopped by the DJ’s booth and handed Todd his CD. “Track eight,” he muttered. “And if they want more, track two.”

Todd looked at him oddly. “What’s wrong with the usual one?”

“Spoony’s off tonight,” Linkara answered easily. “So I’m doing the act alone.”

“We’re not about to find ourselves in the middle of _Chicago,_ are we?” Todd asked, making a note on his set list.

Linkara rolled his eyes. “I promise I didn’t kill Spoony so I could have all the attention for myself.”

Todd laughed. “Just checking, man.”

Linkara forced a smile before heading down to talk to the MC. After getting a new intro written, he headed in to talk to the most difficult man of them all.

He took a deep breath before knocking on the door and poking his head into Critic’s office. “What?” Critic asked without looking up.

“Just wanted to let you know that Spoony’s sick tonight, but I’ve got it covered.”

Critic looked up, not happy. “What’s Spoony sick with?”

“Dunno. He just said he wasn’t up to it tonight. It’s Monday, though, not too many people out there. Should be okay.”

Critic glared another minute. “Okay,” he finally said. “But if that fucker isn’t here Thursday, he’s fired.”

“I’ll tell him that.” Linkara quickly closed the door and headed into the dressing room, ignoring the questions from every side about Spoony. He slammed the door and started getting ready, his mind going back to Spoony.

Upon reaching Linkara’s apartment last night, Spoony had almost immediately passed out. Linkara had dragged him into his room, ignoring Harvey’s inquiries, and put Spoony into bed completely clothed before changing into his pajamas and crawling onto the other side.

They weren’t lovers, they never had been, but they had shared a bed before in all innocence, mostly in the first six months after college when they were completely broke and living in the basement of a boarding house belonging to a mean old woman who charged ten dollars a day and spent most days sitting in front of a TV watching soap operas with the volume all the way up. During that time, Linkara and Spoony had barely been able to afford even the most basic furniture and had wound up spending every night curled together on a twin bed without blankets trying to keep warm. It had been a blessed relief the day that Linkara had found a listing for a wanted roommate and had found a job that offered enough for him to afford it, even if the job was exploiting his own body. After the first few months, he had convinced the owner to give Spoony an audition, and Spoony had managed to earn enough for his own apartment.

They had often talked about living together again, but since they were now coworkers in one of the most awkward ways, they had never done it. But now that Spoony was in this situation, now that the best option could be to leave…

“Linkara! You’re on in five!”

“Thanks,” Linkara called, snapping back to the present and pulling on his outfit. There would be time to worry about Spoony later, once he was done with his act.

He checked himself in the mirror again, making sure that he looked good enough for the audience to try and jump him, and then hurried to his place. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of all the shit he had to deal with when he was done, and focused on the choreography he hadn’t done in almost a year.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for your pleasure, the dazzling heartbreaker, the one you all love, Magic Gun!”

A cute coy female voice filled the air, though it couldn’t be heard over the screaming as Linkara began to dance, moving his hips more than usual, giving the audience the most lecherous look he could manage at the moment.

_You're gonna say you'll miss me_

_You're gonna say you'll kiss me_

_Yes, you're gonna say you'll love me_

_Cause I'm gonna love you too._

As long as he could remember, Linkara had been a terrible dancer by all conventional definitions. His body type didn’t encourage him to try taking normal dance classes, and he didn’t care enough to change that. He took a ballroom class in college to try and meet girls, but had epically failed at it. Just went to show how classes didn’t really matter.

_I don't care what you told me_

_You're gonna say you'll hold me_

_Yes, you're gonna say you'll love me_

_Cause I'm gonna love you too._

And it was actually fun sometimes, dancing like a fool, pulling his clothes off to show everyone who he was, what he was. Linkara knew that men like him didn’t often get jobs as strippers, let alone become popular enough to headline, but something about him was apparently attractive to people and he had gotten to this point rather quickly, all things considered. He had grown to actually like this job, and the constant fast moving and not-very-high pay had made him start losing weight again.

_After all, another fella took you_

_But I still can't overlook you_

_I'm gonna do my best to hook you_

_After all is said & done_

His mind went back to Spoony as he danced. While they had never been more than friends, not even in the nights when they had curled close together to keep warm or with the constant touching, bumping, and grinding they did onstage, Linkara wished that there was more he could do for him. Some way he could show Spoony that this wasn’t his fault, that no one should ever hurt him that way, that someone out there really did care for him…

_You're gonna say you'll miss me_

_You're gonna say you'll kiss me_

_Yes, you're gonna say you'll love me_

_Cause I'm gonna love you too._

Spoony had woken up sometime in the afternoon. Linkara, who had barely slept, had merely greeted him kindly and given him some aspirin. Harvey had glanced up and raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, and neither Linkara nor Spoony wanted to fill in the blanks. They had spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch with a laptop in front of them, watching stupid Youtube videos until it was time for Linkara to go to the club. He had told Spoony that he could stay there as long as he wanted, that he’d cover for him, that he didn’t have to be by himself if he didn’t want to. Spoony had merely nodded as Linkara left, and it was almost enough to make Linkara say “screw it” and call the whole thing off. But no, he needed to do this. They had Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, he could cover this.

_It's gonna happen someday_

_You're gonna see things my way_

_Yes, you're gonna say you'll love me_

_Cause I'm gonna love you too._

He glanced around surreptitiously as he danced and spotted table six. There he was. The man whose fault it was that Spoony wasn’t here tonight, the man who had done this. Linkara made no outward sign that he noticed, but he made a mental note to get one of the bouncers to watch his back when he left. He didn’t want to have to answer any questions about Spoony. And as predicted, the man wasn’t throwing money at the stage, was merely watching with a look of apathetic disappointment on his face.

_You're gonna tell me sweet things_

_You're gonna make my heart sing_

_Yes, you're gonna hear those bells ring_

_Cause I'm gonna love you too._

_I’m gonna love you too._

_Yes, I’m gonna love you too._

Linkara finished the dance, striking the sexiest pose he could, completely exposed as the money flew in from all sides. He grinned seductively at the audience before gathering it up and heading offstage.

He had been worried that they would demand an encore, but without Spoony there was no need—heck, even with Spoony, there was never an encore. He waited a moment, then headed back to the dressing room.

He knew that however much money he was holding in his hands, it would not be enough to please Critic, but he just didn’t care. He needed to finish up, to get dressed and go home to Spoony. And god, thinking that sentence was stupid. They weren’t married. They weren’t even remotely interested in actually having a relationship. They knew each other far too well for that. They were too close, too personal. Nothing would ever change.

At least, that’s what Linkara always told himself. Being anything more than friends with Spoony would just make things complicated, make performing awkward, make Linkara too jealous to let anyone even look at Spoony…

Okay, that train of thought had gone far enough. If he thought about Spoony any more right now, he was going to head out on the floor and punch the asshole at table six right in the face.

Linkara took a breath and headed into Critic’s office, hoping that whatever he was holding would be enough to avoid getting yelled at again.

“Good work, girls, see you tomorrow,” Critic said cheerily to the Sexy Sailor Team as they left, passing Linkara. “Well, Linkara? Gonna give me something better than last night?”

“I hope so,” Linkara mumbled. “But probably not. It’s Monday and I was soloing.”

Critic sighed as Linkara dropped the money on his desk. “I don’t like excuses, Linkara.”

“I know.” Linkara waited patiently while Critic counted, breathing deeply to avoid saying anything about Spoony.

“Not bad,” Critic said at the end. “Not as much as you could, but you’ve already said that.” He divided the money and pushed Linkara’s share across the desk. “Now go home and tell your boyfriend to get his ass back here.”

Linkara glared. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a dance partner.”

Critic raised his eyebrows. “Sure he is. Whatever, just tell him to be back here Thursday.”

“Will do,” Linkara snapped, before pocketing his money and leaving.

He slipped out the back door, kicking himself for not speaking with Joe first, and then tried to relax. It was over, he was going home now, home to Spoony…

But he wasn’t done yet.

The asshole from table six was waiting just outside the door. Linkara scowled at him and started walking away.

“Hey,” the man said. Linkara ignored him, even as the guy started following. “Hey, Magic Gun. I’m talking to you.”

“I bet you are,” Linkara muttered.

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m a customer.”

“Not out here, you’re not, so go away.”

“I just wanted to ask where your partner was.”

Linkara glared. “Didn’t want to deal with assholes like you tonight,” he answered.

The man caught his arm. “There’s no need for that,” he said. “I was gonna offer your friend an extra night’s pay, but since he’s not here, I’ll give it to you.”

Linkara wrenched his arm out of the man’s grasp. “Fuck off,” he said.

“Come on.” The man was wearing his most lecherous smile. “Five hundred dollars. Small audience. Better alcohol.”

“Not interested,” Linkara said, walking faster. “And I have to get home.”

The man looked like he was about to say something more, but Linkara hailed a passing cab and slammed the door before he could be intercepted. He was not falling for that.

It was only when Linkara had gotten back home and had seen Spoony was in bed asleep that he stopped hyperventilating. He stared at his friend for a moment before bending down and placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I promise,” he whispered as he slid into bed beside him. “No one will ever touch you again.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

If he had been asked at the end of college where he saw himself in three years, Spoony would not have said dancing in a strip club and being assaulted by men who were a few rungs short on the evolutionary ladder. He would not have guessed that he would one day be hiding in his best friend’s apartment watching back episodes of _Who’s Line_ and trying not to think. He would not have thought that he would spend three days alternating crying and hiding and simply fainting.

No, back then Spoony had a goal. He had a purpose. If you had asked Spoony where he would be three years from graduation, he would have told you that he was going to be a programmer, writing code for products that would change the world, selling apps and websites and making a ton of money, living in a big house in California with a pretty wife and a dog and two kids.

Not that he didn’t still have a goal like that. True, the pretty wife and the kids had been cut out of the equation, but he still dreamed sometimes about the big house in California. Somewhere in the northern part of the state where it was less crowded, with plenty of space for a dog—Spoony still wanted a dog. Somewhere he could settle down and be at peace, with no one to bother him, no one to leer at him, no one to touch…

Well, almost no one. He would take Linkara with him, if he could get there. Linkara had been his rock for the last seven years, the one who got it, who ate lunch with him on the quad in college, who always stopped him when he had too much to drink, who picked up the pieces after every disastrous date, who had stayed by his side through that hellish first six months in the real world when they had fought the roaches in the basement, who had found him a job at the nerdy if still sleazy strip club, who had offered his home and bed without a second’s hesitation when Spoony needed it. No, he wouldn’t leave Linkara behind. Linkara had never abandoned him when life was bad. Spoony couldn’t abandon Linkara if life was ever good.

He thought about that house in California a lot in the three days he hid in Linkara’s apartment and tried not to remember. He thought about the clean white walls and nice soft furniture he’d seen in the home ads. He thought about the big yard and the dog and the warm weather year round. He even entertained the idea of marrying Linkara—not because he was in love with him, no, that would be silly, but because it would make sense. After all, they were best friends and they already seemed destined or doomed to spend their whole lives together. Why not make it permanent?

But every time the idyllic image of a quiet life in a big house came to Spoony’s mind, it was almost immediately chased away by the image of a different big house, one with black rooms and big men and alcohol that kept him from moving and Spoony would scream and flinch back, curling in on himself while Linkara rushed in from whatever he was doing and wrapped his arms around Spoony, whispering meaningless words of comfort to him until the spell passed.

On Thursday, Spoony was hardly in any better shape than he’d been on Sunday, but he insisted on getting up and going to the club. Linkara, knowing as well as anyone how badly Spoony needed this job, agreed, but he quietly asked Harvey to pick them up afterward. He was not going to risk another run-in with the asshole. Harvey had agreed quickly, having seen in the last three days just how badly Spoony was doing. They were heading in early since the director liked to run the show on Thursdays before the club opened.

“Are you going to talk to Critic tonight?” Linkara asked quietly as they walked. He knew he shouldn’t bring it up before their set, but he couldn’t take not knowing.

Spoony nodded. “Might as well get it over with,” he said. “I’ll talk to him before the night starts. If he’s gonna ban that asshole, he might as well start tonight.”

“Do you want me to go in with you?”

“If you could?”

Linkara nodded. “You know I can,” he said.

The Sexy Sailor Team were rehearsing when Spoony and Linkara walked in. None of them noticed, but Chick did, looking over at them and scowling, which from her was the same as a “good afternoon.” Linkara and Spoony merely nodded before going back to their dressing room to get changed.

“Why did we go with the fantasy RPG thing?” Linkara asked as he pulled on his outfit. It was a normal conversation for them, a constant volley of snarks and insults, simple, familiar.

Spoony wasn’t really in the mood to banter tonight, but he did his best. He needed something normal right now. “Probably because we serve the nerdiest people ever,” he said, choking slightly on the word “people.”

Linkara glanced at him, wondering if he should continue. A slight nod was enough to tell him to keep talking. “Still doesn’t explain the two of us make sense in it,” he said.

Spoony shrugged. “Well, I’m the traditional manly sword and sorcery fantasy,” he answered, striking as dramatic a pose as he could manage. “And you’re the modern cop out.”

Linkara grinned. “True. But my magic gun has longer range.”

Spoony almost smiled at that as he finished changing. “And between us, we are the Ultimate Fantasy.”

Linkara kept smiling as he hooked his arm through Spoony’s. “Well, then, Mystic Blade, shall we go show those girls what fantasy is?”

“Of course we should, Magic Gun.” They went backstage and took their places, listening to their introduction before that awful song started.

_You can roll me,_

_You can stat me,_

_You can play me_

_All night long._

It was natural by now. They had been doing this act for months, never changing it up, though that didn’t seem to bother anyone. Once or twice they had talked about it, but Chick had only tsked at them and said that there were only so many ways to take your clothes off. Though as they danced in that rehearsal, Spoony wondered if they would be changing it soon. No other club hosted such a nerdy crowd, so if they were forced to find work elsewhere, they’d have to find a new routine.

Still, dancing was one thing that Spoony could do without thinking, so the rehearsal went off without a hitch in spite of Spoony’s increasing nervousness to speak to Critic. When they were done, the director nodded, which from her was “good work,” and Spoony and Linkara hurried off to put on some pants and talk to their boss.

“You ready?” Linkara asked as soon as they were dressed.

Spoony nodded. “Let’s go.” They headed down the hall to the manager’s office. Spoony took several deep breaths before knocking.

“Come in,” Critic called after a minute. Spoony opened the door, looking like he was about to faint. “Oh, Spoony. See you’re feeling better.”

“Critic? Can I talk to you?”

Critic looked at him. “What about?”

“A… customer. Who’s been… inappropriate with me…”

“With us,” Linkara corrected.

Critic waved them inside and gestured for them to sit down. “What’s this all about?”

Spoony took a breath. “Last Saturday, after the show…” He told his story as concisely as he could, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. Critic didn’t speak until he was finished, but when it was over, he took a deep breath.

“I’m not sure I can do much about it,” he said. “It happened off the club’s property.”

Spoony nodded. He’d been expecting it, really.

“That’s not all,” Linkara said, and he told Critic how the man had accosted him on Monday. “He was just outside the door and trying to solicit me. If that’s out of your control…”

Critic nodded. “And you didn’t tell me this last Sunday because…?”

“He threatened to get the club shut down,” Spoony mumbled.

Critic got up and started pacing. “So if I ban him, I could lose my license and be brought to court for running a brothel,” he said. “And if I don’t ban him…”

“If you don’t ban him, you’ll find yourself a new headliner,” Linkara snapped. “We can’t dance with him in here. We can’t dance wondering if he’s going to lure us somewhere and drug us or just beat us up in an alleyway. And if you won’t protect us, we’ll find someone who will.”

Critic stared at them for a few minutes. “So how the fuck am I supposed to deal with this?”

“Ban him,” Spoony said suddenly. “I’ve had a lot of time to think and what’s the worst that happens? You’re shut down for a few weeks, a month or two at the most while there’s an investigation that will turn up nothing. There’s no evidence that there’s anything but good, clean stripping and the occasional lap dance going on here. You’ll be back in business soon enough and in the meantime we’ll manage.”

Critic nodded slowly. “I think you’re right,” he said. “Though that only means he can’t come in. He could still attack you outside.”

“Harvey’s picking us up tonight,” Linkara said. “We’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Critic said. “I’ll have a word with the bouncers. And if we end up in court, you two are the first ones on the witness stand!”

“No problem, boss,” Linkara said, before pulling Spoony to his feet. “Come on, we have a show to do.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dancing helped. Even if it was to the worst music ever written, it helped clear Spoony’s head. Sometimes it didn’t work, but tonight it did. He was smiling for real this time, and the audience knew it. Even though it was a Thursday and not very crowded, Spoony and Linkara earned more than enough money to keep Critic happy. Or maybe he was trying to be nice to them. Either way, they left the club in fairly high spirits.

“You coming back to mine?” Linkara asked as they headed out.

Spoony shook his head. “I’ll be okay now, I think. Anyway, I’m sure I need to clean my apartment a little.”

“Okay,” Linkara said, spotting Harvey’s car and heading over to it. “We’ll take you home.”

They had barely made it halfway when they heard shouting from the front of the club. Spoony’s eyes widened, and Linkara uttered a quiet oath. They both knew that voice, and from the sounds of things, he wasn’t happy.

“The club opened six hours ago,” Linkara muttered as he and Spoony ducked around a corner to watch. “Has he been standing out here shouting all this time?”

“Probably not,” Spoony whispered back. “But they switched bouncers around nine, so he probably came back to see if the second one didn’t know or something.”

They listened for a few minutes to the man screaming about his rights and his money and all that shit. Linkara felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, but it was only Harvey. “That the guy, Kid?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Linkara muttered back.

“Want me to take him out?” Linkara glanced down and saw the pistol in Harvey’s hand. “I think I can hit him from here.”

“No,” Spoony answered. “It’s dark, you could hit Joe.” He straightened up. “Let’s get out of here before he comes around here looking for us.”

They hurried to the car. Linkara and Spoony jumped in the backseat as Harvey started the engine. As soon as the door was closed, Harvey drove off, quickly enough to put distance between them and the club, but not so fast as to be noticeable.

“You sure you’re ready to go home?” Linkara asked as soon as they were several streets away.

Spoony nodded. “He’s going to be preoccupied for a while and he doesn’t know where I live and I have to go back sometime.”

“Okay,” Linkara said. “Because you can come back with me…”

“I’ll be fine.”

Linkara studied Spoony carefully, but he sighed and allowed Harvey to take them to Spoony’s building. “If you need anything, call me,” he said as Spoony got out of the car. “We’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Spoony said. “See you then.”

Linkara and Harvey drove off as Spoony headed upstairs. He wasn’t lying, he’d be fine. Maybe a little shaky, but fine.

After he had finally gotten enough money to live somewhere nicer than a roach-infested basement, Spoony had moved alone into a third-floor walk-up that was only marginally better than where he had been. Linkara had offered him a place with him and Harvey, but Spoony had refused. He liked Linkara and they had shared worse quarters, but sharing a bed with him, even a bigger, more comfortable one, wasn’t something they were eager to repeat, or if they were, they weren’t going to admit it. There simply wasn’t space for Spoony in that apartment, so he had gone somewhere alone.

He still had all of their old furniture, though god knew there wasn’t much of it. A card table, shaky and stained from god-knows-what. Two kitchen chairs, stiff and wooden and uncomfortable that they had stolen from the basement of their college dorm. A dresser they had gotten from Linkara’s parents their sophomore year. A bookshelf and two armchairs they had dug out of the dumpsters just after graduation when they had decided to stay here after every prospective employer in their chosen professional fields had turned them down, all of which were falling apart. A mini fridge, coffee maker, and hot plate they had managed to scrounge the money for by selling off almost everything else they had. And of course, the twin bed they had bought used that was too old and rickety to hold one person, but had somehow managed to hold them both at once. The mattress on it had bad springs and way too many lumps, and finding sheets for it had been a hilarious experience, once Spoony could afford sheets again.

And yet Spoony couldn’t bring himself to replace any of it. His apartment had come with a microwave and stove, and he had found a couch that wasn’t too ugly, and he had acquired several other things since taking a job at the Many Pleasures Lounge, but he still had all the crappy furniture from that time with Linkara. Maybe it was because it was the first furniture they had really owned. Maybe it was because it wasn’t Spoony’s to throw out, not really. It still partially belonged to Linkara, even if he had moved on to better things.

Or maybe it was because that bed was still the most comfortable Spoony had ever slept on. Not because it was nice, no, that wasn’t it at all, but because of the memories. Because of how good it had felt, even in the worst of times, to curl up in it with Linkara, their arms wrapped around each other, their legs tangled as they tried to find space and keep warm, their heads fighting for the single pillow (left from when Spoony was a kid), breath warm on each other’s cheeks. Even now, with Linkara gone and not likely to want to share it with him, Spoony could still imagine him there, could still almost feel the heat from the left side of the bed, which he left open purely out of habit.

It was odd that this bed held so many memories. After all, nothing had ever really happened between them. They had never kissed, not when drunk, not when performing, not even as a joke. Spoony knew Linkara’s body as well as his own, they had touched each other more intimately than anyone else had in a very long time, but they had never actually had sex, never even discussed doing so. The most they shared outside of working was some mild cuddling and a light peck on the forehead when one was down.

And that wasn’t going to change. Not now, not ever. They were friends, and they were comfortable as friends. One day, things would get better, they’d leave this city, they’d find jobs that actually mattered and paid better, they’d have a big house and everything, and they’d settle down together with separate beds and different rooms and nothing more than a hug good night. For all that they’d shared, there was more that they hadn’t.

As he lay down in that bed—their bed—Spoony wondered if it could ever change. If he’d ever feel better. If things would get better.

If Linkara would want to share a bed again when they did.

*

Linkara missed that bed.

Sure, he was physically more comfortable now, in a queen-sized bed that he didn’t have to curl up in and a mattress that didn’t leave him aching all day, but there was something missing from it. Maybe it was too warm, with all the blankets he had been able to get—the sheets and blankets from their college days had been sold or given away when they moved into the basement to afford other things—or maybe it was too big, giving Linkara way too much space to stretch out in.

Or, most probably, it was too lonely. Linkara still mostly kept himself to the left side of the bed facing inward, arms outstretched as if to wind around another person, even though it had been more than two years since he and Spoony had lain like that. But no, even the last few nights when Spoony had laid beside him, on the right where he belonged, the bed hadn’t felt as good. There had been too much space between them, separate pillows to rest on, blankets to warm them and keep them apart. They hadn’t slept in each other’s arms, hadn’t tangled together and kicked for space. Spoony hadn’t laid his head on Linkara’s shoulder while they slept, and Linkara’s arms hadn’t wrapped around Spoony so tight it was impossible for them to separate. In fact, beyond a few hugs when Spoony had panicked and cried and screamed, there had been no physical contact between them at all in that bed.

In fact, if he was honest with himself, Linkara kind of wished they could go back to that, to being curled up together, even if it was uncomfortable. Even if they curled up in his new bed, he would like that. He wanted that back in his life, someone loving him, even if it was completely innocent. He wondered if they would go back to that now that the club was in danger of being shut down, now that they could very well find themselves back on the streets looking for ten dollar rooms and auditioning at higher-class and much pickier strip clubs.

And that was provided they weren’t arrested. Linkara didn’t know who their adversary was, exactly, but he was rich and presumably affluent, and he could very well take revenge by having Linkara and Spoony arrested for prostitution. If that happened, they could very well end up sharing a cell, living side by side, but unable to share a bed, unable to touch each other at all.

Hope for the best, Linkara told himself. Hope that the club isn’t shut down, that you keep this job, that you and Spoony can both be comfortable. Separate, but comfortable.

Yes, that would be nice.

*

If either had bothered to do any digging, they would have easily found out who their assailant was. It wasn’t like his face wasn’t in the papers once in a while, usually connected to tabloid gossip. But Spoony and Linkara didn’t read the papers and didn’t care about tabloid gossip—they were too busy trying to survive. So the name of Christian Mercer meant absolutely nothing to either of them.

But to many other people in the city, it meant a great deal, and the fact that Mercer was standing in the office of his brother—who happened to be the mayor—and whining about a strip club was both very worrying and very, very interesting.

Fortunately for Mayor Mercer, there was no press around when his brother had staggered in drunk and started babbling about some “stupid whore” and a “two-bit club.” It had taken a while to sort out the details, but after several drunken slurs and muffled curse words, the mayor had figured out what was going on.

“So let me get this straight,” Mayor Mercer said as his brother finally fell silent. “Some girl at a titty bar refuses to go home with you. She complains to her boss about harassment. You get banned. And now you want me to get the place shut down?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Christian muttered.

The mayor rolled his eyes. “Chris, can’t you just let it go? Find another den of debauchery to hang out in and leave the poor girl alone. She’s probably there because she has six kids she needs to support and has no other skills.”

“Ain’t got no kids,” Christian answered. “And he ain’t the only one.”

“Oh,” the mayor muttered. “I see.”

“And if they don’t get shut down, they might say somethin’ bad ‘bout me,” Christian continued. “And then there’d be a big scandal. And then your re-‘lection wouldn’t go so well.”

“I definitely see,” the mayor said.

“You want that, Gabe? You wanna have a huge scandal on your hands?”

“So you want the club shut down?” the mayor asked, already dialing his phone.

“Yeah,” Christian said. “I want ‘em shut down. And I want the Ultimate Fantasy to never work again.”


	6. Chapter 6

There was a new boy at the club when Linkara and Spoony arrived Friday night. He was small and blond haired, with huge blue eyes and a cute little face. He was hiding in the corner when they arrived, not meeting anyone’s eye. The duo glanced at the director. “Who’s the cute new guy, Chick?” Linkara asked her.

“Name’s Film Brain,” she snapped. “Has this cute little British thing going. Gonna be on with the Rated-X Men, so you might have competition.”

Linkara grinned at her. “I doubt that. No one on Rated-X has ever beaten us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Look, you two are the most senior, so take care of him, would you? Tell him what to do tonight.” She turned to berate the Sexy Sailor Team a bit as Linkara and Spoony shrugged and approached the new boy.

“Why doesn’t his team take care of him?” Spoony grumbled under his breath.

“Because they’re all too busy competing with each other,” Linkara whispered back. “Besides, she doesn’t know what’s going on, so give her a break.”

The boy—Film Brain—looked way out of his depth here. Linkara could see that right away. Kid was barely more than eighteen years old from the look of him, but something in his eyes said that he was tougher than his age would suggest. Then again, if circumstances had led him here, he would have to be.

He looked at Linkara and Spoony warily. “Yes?” he asked, his voice traced with a British accent.

“Chick told us to look after you,” Linkara said. “My name’s Linkara, and this is my dance partner, Spoony.”

Film Brain studied them carefully. “You’re the headline, aren’t you?” he said. “Ultimate Fantasy or whatever.”

“That’s us,” Spoony said. “And you’re Film Brain, the new boy on the Rated-X Men.”

“Yeah,” Film Brain answered. He hesitated. “Why do they have such a stupid name?”

Linkara laughed. “Didn’t anyone tell you?” he said. “This is the strip club for nerds.”

“Well, mostly,” Spoony said, with a dark look at Linkara. “But that is why.”

“Right,” Film Brain muttered.

“So anyway,” Linkara said, giving Spoony a look. “Since this is your first weekend, you’re just watching. Next week Tuesday, you’re coming in to learn all the choreography and you start dancing next Thursday.”

“Okay,” Film Brain said. “Though I’m not much of a dancer, really.”

“That’s okay,” Linkara said. “Neither are we. And the Rated-X Men stuff isn’t too complicated.”

“Just get your clothes off by the end of the song,” Spoony added.

“Which song is it?” Film Brain asked.

Spoony and Linkara exchanged a look. “The best one in the list,” Spoony finally answered.

“Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way,’” Linkara supplied.

Film Brain groaned. “That’s the best song?” he whined.

“Just wait ‘til you hear ours,” Spoony said. “Now come on. You’ll sit with Todd in the DJ’s booth.”

They took Film Brain up, said a few words to Todd, and then headed down to their dressing room. Linkara could tell something was bothering Spoony. “Okay, what is it?” he asked as soon as the door closed.

Spoony sat down and stared into the mirror for a while. Finally, he said, “I just hate seeing the young ones like that.”

“What do you mean?” Linkara asked, grabbing his clothes and starting to change.

“You know. He’s so young and wide-eyed right now, and he’s just trying to survive, but some day… there’s more than one asshole in the world and anyone could hurt a kid like that.”

Linkara nodded. “I know.” He forced a smile. “But he’ll be okay. He’s got eight other people to watch his back.”

Spoony snorted. “Those guys? They don’t watch anything except the Sailors.”

“Well, then, we’ll watch him,” Linkara promised.

Spoony nodded. “Guess we have to,” he agreed, getting up to get ready. “Chick’s orders.”

They didn’t speak again as they got ready, putting on their ridiculous costumes, painting their faces to be seen under the lights. Spoony seemed caught up in his reflections and Linkara decided it would be best not to disturb him.

“You two! Five minutes!”

“Okay,” Linkara called. He looked over at Spoony. “You ready?” he asked.

Spoony nodded, standing up and getting his cape on. “Let’s do this.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the masters of swords and sorcery, the duo of epic proportions, Magic Gun and Mystic Blade in the Ultimate Fantasy!”

_You can roll me,_

_You can stat me,_

_You can play me_

_All night long._

_Please attack me,_

_And please hurt me,_

_Take my hit points_

_All night long._

_Cause I’m gonna be_

_What you want to see,_

_Whatever you want from me._

_Come on, baby,_

_I’m here to please,_

_I’m nothing less than your—_

The doors crashed open and there was a sudden shout. “Police! On the ground! Cease all activity now!”

There was quite a lot of confusion as everyone in the club scrambled to obey. Linkara remained standing, but only because upon the arrival of the cops, Spoony had screamed and started hyperventilating and Linkara was doing his best to hold him up. “Breathe, Spoony,” he whispered. “It’s okay, we knew this could happen. They won’t do anything to us. You’re the victim, remember.”

“Linkara,” Spoony whimpered. “Linkara, they won’t take you away… we’re gonna stay together, right?”

“Right,” Linkara said as a burly policeman approached them. “We’re gonna stay together. They’re not taking you away from me.” Linkara was mostly just thanking God that the most they’d gotten off was their shirts. He quickly grabbed the discarded items and handed Spoony his. “Here, get dressed, we just have to go with them. I promise I’ll stay with you.”

Spoony calmed down enough to pull the shirt over his head while Linkara did the same. By that point, the policeman had reached them. “On your knees,” he growled. Linkara and Spoony instantly obeyed, though Linkara’s arm remained firmly around Spoony’s shoulders. “Names,” he said roughly.

Linkara quietly gave him their names while at the same time trying to prevent Spoony from fainting. The officer studied them closely. “Aren’t you two supposed to be the headliners?” he asked distastefully. “The Ultimate Fantasy?”

“Yes,” Linkara said.

The man raised his eyebrows. “They have really low standards here, don’t they?” he muttered.

Linkara bit back his retort. The last thing he needed was to be slapped with charges for mouthing off to someone with actual authority.

“Right, anyway, you two are both under arrest on the charge of prostitution…”

Linkara didn’t listen as his Miranda rights were read off. He was too busy working something out in his head.

Clearly Spoony’s attacker was someone with clout if it only took one day for the club to be raided, and if Critic had been unable to bribe them with free beer and their choice of company. And if the asshole had that much influence, this wouldn’t be over when the investigation turned up nothing.

The rest of the night passed in a dream. Everyone in the bar at the time was taken to the police station, fingerprinted, questioned, and finally locked in a holding cell. Through it all, Linkara stayed as close to Spoony as he possibly could, and when they were finally put in the cell after two or three hours of questioning (during which they both answered the questions completely honestly for all the good it would do), they had instantly moved together into the farthest corner, away from everyone else being kept there. Linkara glanced around furtively before sliding down the wall, Spoony right beside him. They immediately wound their arms around each other, huddling closer than ever, Spoony’s head finding its familiar place on Linkara’s shoulder. They didn’t say anything. Nothing needed to be said. Linkara had used his free phone call to phone Harvey, who said he’d come get them in the morning. And with that they had to be content.

Gradually they fell asleep, though this was even more uncomfortable than their twin bed. They were crammed into the corner sitting up, with a good number of other people all around them, muttering and cursing and waiting impatiently for their loved ones to bail them out. But for Linkara and Spoony, this was the most comfort they’d had in two years, being able to curl this close, far enough away from the door that the guards didn’t see them and tell them to break it up. At some point, due to space constraints, Spoony wound up practically sitting in Linkara’s lap, arms around his neck, head lolling on his chest. Linkara wrapped his arms securely around Spoony in his sleep, and they stayed that way until morning.

Harvey arrived fairly early, and it was a bit awkward to untangle themselves with so many people around—not that any of the other prisoners cared, being too busy griping about how stupid this was. But they managed it and left, Linkara keeping his arm around Spoony even now, only letting go once they were safely in the car.

“Okay, Harvey,” Linkara said once they were out-of-sight of the station. “Did you find out anything about this?”

Harvey Finevoice knew the ins and outs of the city better than anyone and during his phone call, Linkara had asked him to check into this situation. He was certain that if there was anything that could help them, Harvey would find it.

“Quite a bit, actually,” Harvey said, glancing at them in his rearview mirror. “The asshole you’re having trouble with is named Christian Mercer. He owns a very successful real estate business which rents out retail space to idiots who think they can actually sell stuff, so the guy’s loaded. He’s also the mayor’s brother, so he’s very well connected in both business and politics. Most of the time, he goes out and causes scandals so the press will pay more attention to his antics and ignore the fact that Mayor Mercer is a lazy piece of baloney who hasn’t accomplished anything in spite of being in office for ten years. Anyway, I talked to a pal of mine who informed me that Christian Mercer showed up at his brother’s office last night and demanded that the Many Pleasures Lounge be shut down, or else someone there would get him in trouble and taint his brother’s chances for reelection. The mayor, of course, pushed through the raid and will probably string out the investigation and trial as long as possible, at least until after the election. Meantime, Mercer also put in a request that you two not be allowed to work anywhere else, so every other strip club in town has been informed that if they hire either of you, they will be immediately shut down.”

“That’s…”

“I know, Kid. The justification is that it was your fault that this club ended up where it is.”

“Kind of true,” Spoony muttered.

“So basically, for the next six months at least, our job is gone, we can’t get another one, and that asshole goes free? Do you know what he did?”

“I’m aware, Kid, and I agree it sucks, but I don’t see that there’s anything I can do about it.” He glanced up at them again. “Except for not kicking you out, of course. Which I wasn’t gonna do anyway.”

“Thanks,” Linkara muttered. “Because I don’t know how I’m going to pay the rent for the next six months.”

“Just because the clubs won’t hire us doesn’t mean we can’t find work,” Spoony said. “We’re popular enough. We might get good money for bachelorette parties and some private performances. Or we could leave this circuit and get respectable jobs.”

Harvey snorted and Linkara gave Spoony a look. “Spoony, we’ve worked as strippers for the last two years. What sort of respectable person is going to hire us?” He shook his head. “No, if this doesn’t blow over soon, we’re going to have to leave town. Go somewhere Mercer’s influence doesn’t reach. See if there’s another club with low enough standards to hire us.”

“Or see if we can falsify our resumes enough to get something better.”

“Yeah,” Linkara said. “Or that.” He glanced at Spoony. “We’re going back to yours. Pack a bag and come back down, you’re not staying alone right now.”

“Why not?” Spoony asked.

“If this guy has enough clout to get us ostracized from every club in the city, he has enough to find out where you live and I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to learn you’ve been kidnapped or murdered or anything like that.”

“He could find out where you live, too,” Spoony pointed out.

“He already knows where I live,” Harvey said. “And he knows better than to mess with me anymore.”

They didn’t speak again as they drove to Spoony’s apartment. He ran upstairs and packed quickly, changing out of his stripper clothes while he was at it. He laid them out on the bed and stared at them for a solid minute, thinking.

He and Linkara hadn’t started out with this. They had been in the background for a long time, part of a group early in the evening that wore fewer clothes than most other strippers. But as time went on, Critic and Chick noticed that when Spoony and Linkara were dancing, the money was better, and so Chick pulled them aside and said that they were going to do a duo act, just to see how it went. They had tossed around several ideas for a gimmick, and finally their incredibly stupid names that they had only picked because they needed names inspired them to try the fantasy thing. Chick had dug up that god-awful song and told them to find something to wear that went with it.

That had been a fun experience, going to thrift stores trying to find discarded fantasy costumes. Spoony had lucked out and found a shirt modeled off of armor with a coat of arms he didn’t understand on the front, a black velvet cape that looked stupid by itself but worked surprisingly well with the shirt, and a thong that came straight out of _Dune._ All of these things had miraculously fit him, and it wasn’t like anyone would look at them too long anyway.

Linkara had less luck, but he had pulled something together that looked good. All in all, Chick had been moderately pleased with what they found, and they were a smash hit that night. After a few months, they were promoted to the headline, mostly because the girls who had been headlining before them had realized that they were far too good for a place like the Many Pleasures Lounge. And it had worked out well for them, pulled them closer than they had been since Linkara had moved out, given them enough money to live on.

Spoony didn’t pack that outfit. He knew he’d probably never wear it again, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

He grabbed his bag and returned to the car. No one spoke as they went back to Linkara’s. Spoony leaned on his friend’s shoulder and closed his eyes, knowing things couldn’t get any worse.


	7. Chapter 7

Being back in that bed—the new bed, the good bed, the one that kept them so far apart—was not the most comforting experience after everything that had happened. Spoony wasn’t going to tolerate it. As soon as the light was off and Linkara had lain down on his side, Spoony rolled over and wound his arms around Linkara, pressing his face into his friend’s chest. Linkara wrapped his arms around Spoony in turn, hugging him like he used to, running a hand through his long dark hair.

“What are we going to do?” Spoony mumbled into Linkara’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Linkara admitted. “I guess we’ll have to leave. If we go away, maybe Mercer will drop the case against Critic. The others can have their jobs back and we can start over somewhere else. Go to San Francisco or something and find someone who thinks we’re attractive.”

“We’re gonna stick together, right?” Spoony asked. “You’re gonna stay with me?”

“Of course,” Linkara answered. “As if I could stay away from you.”

“Linkara,” Spoony said. “Will you marry me?”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but once Linkara realized what had been said, he sat straight up. “What?” he asked.

Spoony looked up at Linkara, green eyes bright. “Will you marry me?”

Linkara stared at him. “Spoony…”

“I’m sorry,” Spoony said, pushing himself up on his elbows. “It’s just… we’re gonna be together and I don’t want anyone else and you… I…”

“Don’t people get married because they love each other?” Linkara asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Spoony said. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted and Linkara couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him. Spoony moaned and kissed back, winding his arms back around Linkara and pulling him closer. Linkara tangled one hand in Spoony’s hair, leaning closer, deepening the kiss. Spoony pulled back after a moment and stared at Linkara, the question still shining in his eyes.

“Yes,” Linkara said. “Yes, I’ll marry you. When this is all over, I’ll marry you.” He hesitated a moment. “Do you…? I mean, do you want to…?”

“Yes,” Spoony said.

No more words were spoken that night. There were more kisses, soft touches, a few tears, but no words. Linkara was as gentle as he could be, stroking Spoony’s hair, kissing him softly, asking with his eyes if every move was all right. And every question was answered with a yes, every touch was met with a response, every thrust of Linkara’s hips was matched by Spoony’s in return, every mark on one’s neck reflected on the other’s. Their eyes met as they reached their peaks and they collapsed onto each other. Linkara pulled Spoony close and kissed him.

They fell asleep like that, tangled together like they used to be, but even closer, even more comforted. And though the bed was large, it didn’t feel lonely anymore.

*

Upon reflection, it was simply amazing to Linkara that it had taken seven years for them to reach this point. They had been best friends for so long, ever since Linkara had fallen down a flight of stairs while moving into the dorms. Spoony had picked him up and helped carry the rest of his things up and they had stuck together ever since. Lying beside Spoony the next morning, the sunlight reflecting off of his hair, Linkara wondered why they hadn’t done this in spite of the desire that must have been there for so long.

Not that it really mattered now. Linkara smiled as he leaned over and kissed Spoony gently on the cheek, stroking his shoulder with one hand. Spoony smiled and opened his eyes. “Morning,” he said, rolling over and kissing Linkara properly.

They lay there for several minutes, kissing and stroking, but not getting too heated. There would be plenty of time for that—a whole lifetime for it. After a while, Linkara leaned up and looked at Spoony. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Okay?” Spoony repeated. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.”

Linkara smiled at him. “Me neither.” They kissed again, gentle and chaste, before Linkara pulled back. “We should get up,” he said. “Start looking for something we can do for the next six months.”

Spoony sighed. “I guess.” They rose and dressed, glancing at each other with small smiles, before going out to the kitchen.

Harvey was already there, reading the paper and smoking his first cigarette of the day. “Critic called,” he said as Linkara and Spoony entered the room. “Says that he wants you at the club at five as usual, no excuses.”

“But we’ve been shut down,” Linkara said, sitting down and grabbing part of the paper. “Why would he want us there if we’re not operating?”

“Don’t ask me,” Harvey said. “I’m just passing on the message.” He studied Linkara and Spoony critically before smiling. “So you finally got on with it, then?”

“Shut up,” they snapped together. “Will you take us over there?” Linkara asked as Spoony sat down next to him. “Don’t Mercer to be able to get to us.”

“Course I will, Kid,” Harvey said.

“Thanks,” Linkara said.

*

If Linkara and Spoony were surprised that Critic had called them in that day, it was nothing compared to when they actually walked into the club to find Chick shouting at the Rated-X Men as though nothing had happened. “Critic’s in his office,” she snapped without turning around.

“Thanks,” Linkara said. “But what are you doing?”

“Well, we have some time before our next performance, so we’re learning new choreography.”

“But we’re shut down,” Spoony pointed out. “When are you going to show off whatever you’re learning?”

“I suggest you talk to Critic,” Chick said, finally turning to look at them. She frowned suddenly. “And I suggest you put on some makeup before talking to him.”

“Makeup?” Linkara repeated. “What for?”

Chick looked pointedly at the hickeys on Linkara’s neck. “For the nice bruises Spoony left on you. Was it last night or this morning?”

“Um… last night,” Linkara said in confusion.

“Ha!” Todd shouted from the DJ’s booth as everyone else in the room groaned and started digging through their pockets.

“You fuckers were betting on when we would sleep together?” Spoony asked in irritation.

“Well, yeah,” Chick said, finding her wallet. “Now get going and see Critic. And tell him he owes Todd ten dollars.”

“Will do,” Linkara called as they headed off. Linkara knocked on the door of the office and was immediately told to enter.

Critic was sitting at his desk, looking like he always did. “Afternoon,” he said calmly. He studied them for a minute and sighed. “Who won?” he asked.

“Todd,” Linkara answered. “Critic, what’s going on? We got shut down but Chick’s out there rehearsing and you’re calling us in and—”

“We weren’t completely shut down,” Critic said. “I had my lawyer look over the actual implications of that raid and until the investigation’s over, they’ve only pulled the license for the stripping.”

“So?” Spoony said. “This is a strip club. What are you going to do without a license?”

“I still have a liquor license and a business license,” Critic pointed out. “So until all of this is sorted, we can still be open as long as no one takes their clothes off.”

“Listen, Critic,” Linkara said. “I had Harvey look into this. That guy—”

“Mercer. I know.” Critic smiled. “You’re not the only one with connections, Linkara. And neither is he. I should have this cleared up fairly soon, but you two need to work with me.”

“You’re going to fire us, aren’t you?” Spoony said quietly.

“No,” Critic said. “I’m not. You two are still the most successful act I’ve ever had and damned if I’m gonna lose you now. But until I’ve got this sorted out, you won’t be performing, even with your clothes on.”

“Critic, we can’t perform with our clothes on,” Linkara said with a smile. “In case you haven’t noticed, we really can’t dance.”

“I know,” Critic said. “But that’s not why. Apparently, Mercer just wants to make your lives hell because you’re the ones who pissed him off. And from what I can tell, he has a bit of a possessive streak on him and he’s focused it on Spoony.”

Spoony paled and Linkara put his arm around his shoulders. “What does that mean?” Linkara asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Far as I can tell, he’ll drop everything against the club if Spoony doesn’t perform,” Critic answered. “Or if you have to perform, he’ll drop it if you willingly sleep with him or something.”

“What is this, the fucking Moulin Rouge?” Spoony asked. “Well guess what? I’m not a beautiful misunderstood hooker dying of tuberculosis. I don’t have a pretty boy writer defending my honor that he can threaten. I have so much to lose by giving into him and you are not worth saving, Critic. That asshole raped me. Raped me. I’m not going through that again.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Critic snapped. “I’m just saying that until this is over, you’re not performing. There are a thousand other things you two can do around here so you get a paycheck that don’t involve anyone seeing you. No one even has to know you’re on the payroll.”

Linkara and Spoony looked at each other. If they didn’t have to leave… “What do you want us to do?” Linkara asked.

“We’re moving to a more traditional theater type thing for right now,” Critic answered. “You two are going backstage to build sets and mend costumes and run errands and whatever else we can think of. The rest of them are going to be dancing as usual, and a few of them might even sing, some have good voices at least. Chick’s putting the whole thing together and no clothes will be shed. We reopen in two weeks once we have a decent show together, and I expect you two working backstage every night except Tuesday and Wednesday until then.”

“Won’t Mercer pull your business license if he finds out we’re still here?” Linkara asked.

“Let him try,” Critic said. “The original charge will break down quickly enough, even with the mayor stringing it out, and there’s no reason I can’t run a legitimate business in the meantime. And if he tries to stop me, I know people too.” He looked at them for a moment. “Spoony, if you want to bring charges against him, now would be the time. Before we get too mired in other problems.”

Spoony glanced at Linkara. “I… I don’t think I can. There’s no evidence. I went with him willingly, even if I didn’t consent. Besides, he has money and influence and connections while I’m just a poor stripper. I can’t win that case, even if I bring it.”

Critic nodded. “Okay,” he said. “That’s your choice. But he’s still banned.”

“Thank you,” Spoony said.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go backstage and see what needs doing. We’ve got a show to put together and very little time to do it, and we need all the help we can get.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next two weeks were the best that Spoony had known since graduating college. He no longer had to stand in front of people completely naked. He was doing honest hard work, and while it was exhausting, fetching and carrying and lifting and building, at the end of the day he had Linkara to fall into bed with him, to hold him all through the night. They had a regular salary now, which, while lower than they could have made performing, was at least reliable. There was no sign of Mercer through it and Spoony began to hope that Critic had managed to sort it all out, that they wouldn’t hear from him again.

They weren’t just working, though. During their time off, Linkara and Spoony wasted no time in planning a wedding. They agreed that they didn’t want a big church ceremony or party or anything like that—not that they had anyone to invite to a big wedding except Harvey and their coworkers. Spoony doubted that even their parents would want to come, considering that none of them had been given any more than vague information about the life that Spoony and Linkara had been living for the past three years.

Not that their insistence that they were going to have a quiet ceremony with no party afterward stopped anyone else from planning otherwise. The moment their coworkers had learned that they were going to get married, all of them had started making elaborate plans and jokes and all sorts of nonsense. Critic had even asked if they could legally get married, to which Linkara responded that they were planning to elope to Iowa where they definitely could. Which meant that none of them were invited. At all.

“You need witnesses,” Chick said when Linkara said that.

“Yeah,” Linkara said. “And we’re taking Harvey and Joe.”

Chick pouted. “Come on. I’ve supported you from the start. Why do you think I let you do the duo? If anyone deserves to go…”

“You’ll stand there and make smart remarks the whole time,” Spoony said. “And don’t you have a rehearsal to run? We’re re-opening tomorrow night.”

“Don’t you have a set to build?” she retorted.

“We’re working,” Linkara said. “You’re standing here haranguing us about an event that won’t take place for several months.”

Teasing and nagging aside, Spoony was very glad that he had something to look forward to. While Critic had managed to temporarily solve their problem—and it amazed Spoony that their boss had stuck his neck out for them—they all knew it wasn’t over and that Mercer wouldn’t stop his vendetta against them. Spoony should not have been so nervous about a show opening, especially one he wasn’t in, but he couldn’t help but worry.

And when the night came, Spoony’s nerves got so bad that he could barely function. Unfortunately, an hour before opening, he and Linkara were being told to do so many things that he could barely catch his breath. “Relax,” Linkara whispered as they dashed around. “Once they get started, Chick says we can sit it out in our room until it’s over.”

Spoony nodded, and they managed to get everything in place before Joe opened the doors and started letting people in. Once the club opened, Chick nodded at them. “Okay, boys, go to your dressing room and don’t let anyone know you’re still here. We can only keep this up as long as you’re invisible.”

“You got it,” Linkara said, taking Spoony’s hand and pulling him into the dressing room. It was so familiar, so comforting, with the bright lights and mirrors all around. Linkara smiled sadly as they went in.

“Wondering if we’ll ever use this place for its intended purpose again?” Spoony asked, sitting down in his usual chair.

“Kind of,” Linkara admitted, pulling his chair up next to Spoony. “I mean, we’ve spent the last year as headliners, putting on makeup and stupid outfits, and now we’re hiding back here as stagehands.”

“Yeah,” Spoony agreed. “But at least Chick didn’t give it to her new headliners. She’s letting us keep this, at least.”

“Probably because she knows that once this is over, we’ll be back anyway.” Linkara sighed and looked at Spoony. “So how long do we have to wait here?”

“Six hours,” Spoony said. “For which we won’t be paid, but that’s all right.”

“We’re getting paid for the rest of the time,” Linkara agreed. “Though why we stay here instead of just going home and coming back…”

“If we stay here, Critic knows where we are and he’s not worrying about Mercer finding us and fucking everything up again,” Spoony said. “And he’s right. Out there, we can’t be sure of anything. In here, we’re invisible. As long as we’re invisible, we’re safe.”

Linkara nodded. “So what are we going to do for the next six hours?”

Spoony grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask.” He practically tackled Linkara off his chair, capturing his lips in a very enthusiastic kiss. Linkara took a moment to catch his breath before he returned the kiss, catching Spoony around the waist and pulling him into his lap, Spoony’s legs on either side of him. There was laughter and a bit of awkward repositioning before Linkara gave up and lifted Spoony onto the counter, leaning over him and kissing him more, his hand fumbling for the zipper on Spoony’s jeans. Spoony grinned and reciprocated, wrapping his legs around Linkara’s waist as soon as they were both free of their pants…

This was a good use of six hours spare time.

*

Out on the floor, Critic and Chick stood up by the DJ’s booth—not in it, on the little landing just next to it, above the crowd looking down. They often stood there on big nights, behind the speakers where it wasn’t too loud, where they could watch the spectacle and still talk to each other.

“Good turn out,” Chick commented. “Especially considering the disreputable air hanging around here.”

“That only attracts more,” Critic answered, leaning on the railing and looking at her. “People feel like badasses coming in here now because they never know if they’re going to be arrested.”

She nodded. “I guess you’re right.” They were silent for several minutes, Chick watching the dancers with a critical eye. “They’re going pretty well,” she finally concluded. “Considering they’re used to wearing less.”

Critic laughed a bit. Chick wasn’t much of a director—she had gotten the job purely because she and Critic had worked together for years and he trusted her—but she did her best to keep the show entertaining and what she lacked in skill she made up for in shouting. It worked pretty well—Critic certainly wasn’t the wealthiest strip club owner in tow, but he had carved out a niche that gave him a pretty good profit and gave Chick a sense of accomplishment. It was the best deal either of them could have gotten. “You keep telling yourself that,” he said. “At least the audience isn’t bored.”

Chick snorted. “They won’t be bored as long as there’s booze. But the dancers at least remember what they’re supposed to be doing.” Her eyes sharpened. “Well, mostly.”

“The new kid?” Critic said, nodding. “Film Brain?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s not a very good dancer.”

“Why’d you hire him?”

“He’s cute. And when this was a strip joint, he would have made a killing. But right now, he’s completely out of his depth.”

“At least he’s in the back.”

“Where I put him after three days.” She shook her head. “I have no idea what he’s doing here, to be honest. I mean, why would a kid from Britain end up here?”

“There could be a thousand reasons. Everyone has a different story.”

“I know. I just get the sense that he doesn’t belong on the dance floor. At all.”

“Do any of them?”

“I guess not.” She looked sad for a moment and Critic let her brood. Finally, she shook her head and looked up. “By the way, it was mighty nice of you to keep Linkara and Spoony.”

“Of course I kept them. They’re my headliners.”

“Not anymore.”

“Not right now.”

“Critic, do you really think you can beat this? I mean, he’s the mayor’s brother.”

“I have connections above that.”

“I know, so why isn’t the fucker in jail? You know what he did—”

“Yes, Chick, I do know what he did. And if Spoony had chosen to press charges, you can bet that he’d be in jail. But Spoony’s right, there’s no proof, so there’s no point in pressing charges.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Fight him in court over my issues. He doesn’t have evidence either.”

“Critic…”

“And if this gets strung out too long, I’ll use all of my connections to bring him down. Do you really think he’ll keep this up if I drop a hint to his brother about campaign sabotage?”

“He doesn’t care about campaigns…”

“But his connections do. Mine don’t.”

“That’s true,” she admitted. “But there are easier ways to deal with him.”

“Yes,” Critic agreed. “But only as a last resort.”


	9. Chapter 9

The show went on for about a month.

One month where everything was good. One month where Spoony wasn’t afraid. One month when Linkara was always there, always loving him, and they didn’t have to worry about Mercer. One month of peace.

And then one Thursday, Critic came barging out of his office, interrupting rehearsal. Chick called a halt and glared at him, the dancers all immediately found chairs, Todd came out of the booth, and Spoony and Linkara, who had been taking inventory of the liquor, dropped their sheets and came around the bar.

“Listen up, people!” Critic shouted. “I just got a call from a certain person at a certain office.”

There was an instant hush as everyone exchanged a look. Spoony felt for Linkara’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze, which Linkara quickly returned.

“Now, we’re not getting shut down any time soon, so you can keep dancing to your hearts’ content. But this certain someone has said that the person who brought charges against us has pulled some big fancy strings to get back in here. I’ve just been told that if we don’t allow this, we won’t survive.” There was a bit of whispering and Spoony fainted. Linkara caught him before he hit the ground and he stared wide-eyed at Critic, horrified. “So that’s your warning. He’s coming tonight and he’ll be at table six. Do your things as usual, don’t bother him, and don’t let on that you know anything. Hopefully, we can get all of this worked out tonight so you can go back to that thing you do.” He nodded at Linkara, who was struggling to support Spoony. “Meet me in my office when he’s conscious. Carry on!”

Everyone simply stared after Critic as he swept back into his office. There was about a minute of silence before Chick recovered. “Joe, help Linkara lift Spoony onto the bar,” she called. “We’ll wipe it down later. Film Brain, get a glass of water. The rest of you, we’re going to start with the Sailor number, so track four, Todd.”

Her orders were carried out and in a few minutes, Spoony’s eyes opened and met Linkara’s. “Linkara…” he groaned. “Did I just hear… did Critic say what I think he said?”

“It’s okay,” Linkara said. “It’s gonna be okay. He won’t see you. We’ll be in the back, as usual.”

“But he’ll wait outside, he’ll come back to us, he’ll…”

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Linkara said. “I’m gonna be right by you all night, we’ll lock the door, Joe will walk us out, Harvey’s picking us up…” It took quite a bit of reassurance before Spoony calmed down enough to stand up. As soon as he could walk a little, Linkara guided him into the office, entering without knocking, and started talking before Critic could open his mouth. “The hell were you thinking?” Linkara snapped.

“Linkara…”

“Look at him, Critic! Look!” He guided Spoony forward. “He’s terrified! You promised that this asshole wouldn’t be coming back—”

“Listen!” Critic snapped. “I know what I said. And I’m sorry. But my people have negotiated with his people and this is what we can do. You two don’t have to perform. Fuck it, you two don’t even have to be here. I’ll have one of the bouncers tell you when the fucker’s inside and you can slip out the back and go home. If you’re not here, he’ll probably get bored and find another place to hang out and drop everything, and you can get back to your real work.”

“But what if he doesn’t get bored? What if he latches onto someone else? Like Film Brain. Do you want a kid like that to have this happen to him? If you let him come back now, he’ll just walk all over you.”

“I know what I’m doing, Linkara,” Critic said. “He won’t see any skin. He’ll be given the worst alcohol I have, no matter what he orders. You two won’t be around. He’ll come, he’ll see what’s happening, he’ll get bored, he’ll leave. Besides, Film Brain’s at the back. I doubt he’s in any danger.”

Linkara opened his mouth to argue more, but Spoony shook his head. “Critic’s right,” he said. “This is probably the best way. And if we leave while he’s preoccupied, he’ll never even know we were here.”

Linkara looked at Spoony for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” he said. “But if anything goes wrong, Critic, we’re hopping the first bus to Los Angeles.”

“Deal,” Critic said.

*

It took another half-hour for Spoony to calm down enough to get back to work, but once his heart had stopped pounding he did anything he could, trying not to think about the man who would be coming tonight. Unfortunately, it was rather difficult since everyone else was incredibly tense—even if they didn’t know the details, they knew that Mercer was trouble, and seeing Spoony pass out like that had only heightened their concern. Finally, half-an-hour before the club was supposed to open, Chick called a halt and told everyone to get something to eat before they started. “Or just some water. Whatever you can stomach.”

Spoony wasn’t sure he could stomach even the water until he was safe at home with Linkara, but he did manage to take a few sips from the bottle Linkara offered him. “It’s okay, we’re going home soon, you don’t have to see him,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Spoony said. “I’m just worried. What if something does go wrong? What if we get shut down again? What if…”

“I called Harvey and he’s ready to take us to the Greyhound station the moment we ask. And if anything goes wrong, we’re out. I’ve got some money; we’ll just go as far as they’ll take us and start over. We’ve started with nothing before, we can start with nothing again.”

Spoony smiled. “I’m not starting with nothing,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”

Linkara rolled his eyes. “That line was so cheesy I could make several plates of nachos from it.”

“But you love it.”

“Of course I do.” He wrapped his arms around Spoony, pulling him close to his chest. They stayed there for a few minutes before the music started, signaling that the club was opening. Spoony looked at Linkara, and there was fear in his eyes, and love, and defiance, and all the beautiful emotions that equaled Spoony. Linkara smiled reassuringly at him as they waited, silently counting the seconds until someone came to tell them they could go.

They stayed that way for about half-an-hour until there was a knock on the door and Joe poked his head in. “Mercer’s on the floor,” he said. “Just ordered his first drink. I’ll take you out now.”

“Okay,” Linkara said, letting go of Spoony and grabbing his wallet, stowing it in the inside pocket of his coat. “Let’s go.”

Just as they left the room, though, there was a sudden uproar from out on the floor and Film Brain came dashing over to them. “Joe, there’s a fight out on the floor.”

Joe looked at him, then back at Linkara and Spoony, his face conflicted.

“Go ahead,” Linkara said. “That’s what Critic pays you for. Besides, if Mercer’s out there, he’s not bothering us. We’ll be fine.”

Joe nodded. “Harvey’s waiting outside. I talked to him before coming in.”

“Thanks,” Linkara said, grabbing Spoony’s hand. They slipped out the back door as Joe hurried off to deal with whatever was going on.

The back door was really more of a fire escape, with stairs leading down the side of the building. Linkara and Spoony hurried down them and had just reached the ground when there was a laugh behind them. “Really, boys? You thought you could pull that off?”

Linkara’s blood froze and he felt Spoony’s hand clench around his. They turned slowly to see Mercer standing against the wall, grinning lecherously at them. Linkara immediately pushed Spoony behind him, glaring at Mercer as hard as he could. “Weren’t you going in?” Linkara asked pointedly. Damn Joe for making a mistake like that…

“Why bother?” Mercer said. “What I want is out here. I sent in a double, though. Didn’t want to disappoint those who wanted to see me.”

“We can destroy you,” Linkara said, trying to keep calm. “You, your brother… pull down all those connections you have.”

“See, I talked to my brother,” Mercer said coolly. “And he said he would keep everyone else away from you.” He nodded at Spoony. “Clearly he couldn’t do that. So I don’t care about my brother. But I’m still going to have what’s mine.”

“He’s not yours,” Linkara said through gritted teeth. “He’s not yours, so stay away from us.” He looked around. There was Harvey’s car, and from the looks of things, Harvey was about ready to intervene…

“Try to stop me,” Mercer growled. He lunged at Linkara. Linkara threw a punch, but Mercer dodged. Linkara tried to move, but Mercer actually hit him and Linkara fell. Spoony saw the handle of a knife…

He couldn’t scream. He tried, but he couldn’t. Mercer was on him in a second, grabbing Spoony around the waist…

“You’re mine, bitch,” Mercer hissed in his ear, pushing Spoony against the wall. Spoony closed his eyes, whimpering, trying to get away as Mercer pushed against him…

There was a loud bang from somewhere above them and Mercer’s weight was suddenly gone. Spoony opened his eyes and saw the body fall to the ground. The man had been shot in the head and it was all Spoony could do not to faint at the sight. He looked up, away from the scene before him, to see Film Brain standing at the top of the stairs, slipping the still smoking pistol into the pocket of his jeans. He smiled at Spoony before jumping over the railing and disappearing into the night.

Spoony closed his eyes again and tried to catch his breath, tears streaming down his face. It was only when he heard footsteps from all sides that Spoony opened his eyes to see that the doors of the club had swung open as everyone came out. Harvey had already gotten over to them and was kneeling beside Linkara, who was sitting up and pulling the knife out of his chest.

Spoony stared. The knife was completely clean and Linkara seemed perfectly fine. Linkara looked up at Spoony and was instantly on his feet. “Spoony, are you okay?” he asked, dropping the knife and hurrying into Spoony’s arms.

“I… you… how…” This was all too much and Spoony couldn’t do anything but kiss Linkara, clutching his jacket, tears still falling.

Linkara laughed and pulled back, reaching into his jacket. “He hit my wallet,” he said, pulling it out. “Spoony, it’s over. He’s gone. He can’t hurt us anymore, it’s over… it’s over…”

Spoony leaned on Linkara, still crying. “It… it was…”

“Don’t tell me,” Linkara whispered. “Whoever it was is long gone, and there’s no point in getting more caught up in this than necessary.”

Spoony nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered softly.


	10. Chapter 10

_Six months later_

“Ladies and gentlemen, you love them, you want them, you dream about them, so please welcome Magic Gun and Mystic Blade in the Ultimate Fantasy!”

The screams and cheers almost drowned out the music, but they knew it well enough that it didn’t matter. They were smiling, they were dancing, and the audience loved it.

_You can roll me,_

_You can stat me,_

_You can play me_

_All night long._

The club had been shut down after Mercer’s death while the police investigated. Unfortunately, they hadn’t found anything. There was suspicion placed on the British boy who had quit his job and hurried back to London the next day, but in the end there was no evidence, so the case was dropped. The police concluded that it had been a mob hit of some kind—apparently, Spoony wasn’t the only person who needed Mercer gone. And for all they knew, that was correct.

Harvey smiled slightly to himself when Linkara told him that. “Well, isn’t that something?” he said.

Linkara looked at him suspiciously. “You didn’t hire a little blond boy from London to take care of him, did you?”

“If I did, why would I admit it?” Harvey asked, and that was the last of it.

_Please attack me,_

_And please hurt me,_

_Take my hit points_

_All night long._

Though the investigation hadn’t found the killer, it had found a number of other things, mostly having to do with Mercer and the mayor and a number of corruption scandals. Spoony and Linkara weren’t particularly interested in the specifics, but they could see why someone would want to kill him.

The mayor was not prosecuted, though he did lose his bid for reelection. No one was particularly sad about this. The new mayor’s first order of business was to make a speech about how she wouldn’t allow family to influence her and all the honest, hardworking businessmen had nothing to fear from her administration.

Everyone found this incredibly funny.

_Cause I’m gonna be_

_What you want to see_

_Whatever you want from me._

Once the investigation was done, though, the club had re-opened in its original capacity. Since the star witness in the prostitution’s case was dead, there was no point in pursuing it, and Critic had gotten his license for a strip club back. That was a happy day—none of the performers particularly liked just regular dancing.

“Though maybe we should get a new routine,” Spoony said. “With a new song?”

“But people love your bit,” Chick whined. “And what song would you prefer?”

“I don’t know,” Spoony said. “Just something else.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Linkara said. “I think this song is growing on me.” He kissed Spoony on the cheek. “After all, it’s so true.”

_Come on, baby,_

_I’m here to please,_

_I’m nothing less than your_

_Ultimate Fantasy._

Critic had given them Monday off that week, so Harvey had taken them and Joe across the river to Dubuque, where Spoony and Linkara got married in a quiet, if somewhat rushed ceremony. Just saying the words “I do” felt like the greatest activity ever.

They had returned Wednesday, but instead of taking them home, Harvey had driven to the club, where Chick had organized a huge party like everyone had been begging them to do since the start. Linkara had given Harvey a look, but Harvey had only grinned and said, “Oh, come on, Kid. Did you really think we’d let you off that easy?”

_Just a costume,_

_Just a stage name,_

_Just a character_

_To you._

As they lay in bed—they had decided to live at Spoony’s apartment since it was cheaper, so it was their bed, their old twin bed—Wednesday night, curled around each other, Spoony said to Linkara, “You know, maybe we should quit the stripper business and get respectable jobs now.”

“Why?” Linkara asked. “You jealous?”

“Not at all,” Spoony said. “I’m glad everyone can see what I have. It’s just that we’re married now. We’re getting old. Maybe we should start being responsible.”

Linkara looked at him for a moment. “You’re right,” Spoony said. “What else are we going to do?”

_Please don’t bore me_

_With your story,_

_Just let me be_

_Good to you._

Not that there hadn’t been changes to their habits. They no longer went out drinking after work, preferring to hurry home and be alone. The money they would have once spent on alcohol was now placed in a special box, saved so they could someday move away from this. Spoony still dreamed of that big house in California, and Linkara had agreed that when they could, they would have it.

It wouldn’t be soon, but it would be someday. And someday was good enough.

_Cause I’m gonna be_

_What you want to see,_

_Whatever you want from me._

And as they danced that Thursday, they knew that they could never do anything else, that this was where they belonged. Spoony gave Linkara his brightest smile as they moved together, a smile which was gladly returned.

If the audience noticed, it just made them cheer more.

_Come on, baby,_

_I’m here to please,_

_I’m nothing less than your_

_Ultimate Fantasy._

Critic and Chick were standing by the DJ’s booth, watching them. “They haven’t lost it,” Chick said.

“If anything, they’re even better now,” Critic agreed.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the instrumental. “You really could have picked a better song,” Critic said.

“Shut up, they like it,” she answered. “Also, I’ve found another boy for the Rated-X Men.”

“Are you sure this one’s not a hitman?”

“Quite. This one can actually dance.”

“Just checking.”

“You don’t know that Film Brain actually did it.”

Critic looked at her for a moment. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t.”

_Cause I’m gonna be_

_What you want to see,_

_Whatever you want from me._

_Come on, baby,_

_I’m here to please,_

_I’m nothing less than your_

_Ultimate Fantasy._

The song ended and Linkara and Spoony hit their final pose. Over the screaming, applauding, and money hitting the stage, no one heard it when Linkara whispered, “I love you.”

Nor did they hear when Spoony whispered it back.


End file.
